


An evening at home turns steamy

by zinjadu



Series: In a house on a hill by the sea [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bathtub Sex, Bedroom Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Switching, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 20:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17311271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: After a long day of working the fields (who knew retirement from the Wardens would include hard work!), Caitwyn draws Alistair a bath to help him recoup.  Then things turn steamy.  Pun intentional.Takes place in the middle of Chapter 8 ofThe Long Way Home.  Just didn't have the space for in the main fic.





	An evening at home turns steamy

The kettle boiled on its hook over the fire, and Caitwyn carefully swung the iron arm out, wrapping a cloth about the handle and pouring the steaming water into the copper tub.  It had cost them a fair few silvers to get it, but it certainly had proven its worth with Alistair helping bring in the harvest. The man in question yelped at the final addition of hot water, and Caitwyn laid a finger to her lips, green eyes darting to the closed door to Kieran’s room.  Alistair grumbled low in his chest and sank deeper into the tub.

“You did that on purpose,” he accused darkly, but keeping his voice down.

“Would I do such a thing?”  She let her voice go high and breathy, laying a slim-fingered hand to her chest as though in fainting shock. 

“You would,” he insisted, flicking a bit of the water at her, dampening her thin, linen shirt.  She arched one dark brow at him, but did not rise to the bait. Instead, she primly set the kettle on the hearth stones to cool and picked up the bar of soap, weighing it in her hand.  With a sigh, Alistair sat up, shivering as the cool autumn air hit his wet back in spite of the fire that warmed the room. He curled his shoulders forward, and she shifted around to sit behind him.

Soaping down his back, she spent a little time working at a few knots she could feel in his muscles, particularly around the scars he’d earned from Weisshaupt.  She knew he was tired, keeping up with the other men in the fields, and though he didn’t say anything, it had to be a little disheartening to know that no matter how much he had trained as a warrior, keeping up with farmers in their fields was a different task altogether.  He leaned into her touch, a low groan escaping him as she worked out a particularly bad one between his shoulder blades, and she pressed a quick kiss to his neck, eliciting another sound from him all together. 

“Hmmm, if that’s what you’d like, love, I’m afraid you’re going to be doing all the work tonight,” he told her, voice a low rumble in his chest, and though she hadn’t been thinking along those lines, she was now.  Since he had started working the fields, he had come home too tired to do much more than eat supper and wash himself down as quickly as possible before turning in. On this, the last day of the harvest, she had thought he would be much the same.  Her only idea had been to treat him to a full bath, now other notions floated to the surface.

“We’ll see how we go,” she said softly, lips tickling his ear, and he stroked a finger along her cheek.  Then she tapped his left arm, which he dutifully lifted for soapy attention, then the right, and she scrubbed until the odor of sweat and manure and a hard day’s work began to dissipate.  Working the soap through his hair, she tamped down her horror at how the soap came away decidedly brown and quickly washed it off before scrubbing behind his ears.

“Always with the ears,” he complained, though there was no real rancor to it. 

“Rinse,” she told him, tapping him on the back of his head, and he drew in a breath and slid down the tub, the suds floating on the surface.  Then, he rose slowly to avoid splashing. The water sluiced off of his freckled skin, droplets tracing around the muscles of his shoulders, back and chest.  He leaned back against the tub, his arms resting on the rim, head lolling back to look at her with a pleased grin.

The same kind of grin played about her own lips as she moved about to the far side of the tub, enjoying the way the firelight played over his wet skin, darker for his time in the sun.  The sun had also bleached his hair a bit, turning it more blonde than ruddy, and she twisted a lock of it in her dark fingers. She traced the line of his brow, his cheek, knowing all the scars, lamenting the ones she wasn’t there for, the ones she couldn’t prevent.  He must have seen some of her regret in her face, because he held her hand and kissed her palm, and he looked at her with those warm hazel eyes, eyes that were a fire in and of themselves. 

A wave of anticipatory pleasure washed over her, and she set down the bar of soap.  Checking over her shoulder, she glanced past the couch and saw the door to Kieran’s room was firmly shut, not even the light of a candle peeking underneath, nor could she hear anything save the occasional puppy wuffle.  Caitwyn turned back to Alistair, playing with the hem of her shirt, as if she were not sure she should remove it or not. He sat up, reaching for her shirt, and she let him grab hold of the hem, lifting it up over her head before he captured her face with his hands and kissed her.

Lips parting, and she let him in as her eyes fluttered closed, and his hands stroked down her neck, over her shoulders, then around her back, untucking the end of her breastbinding.  He drew back, eyes taking in the sight of her as he unwound the cloth. Over a decade together and he still looked at her like he had when they had been young and terrified of hurting each other, and so careful, treating every step like it was a leap into the unknown.  How mad they had been, mad and in love, though those might be one and the same. Over a decade, and he still made her laugh, still made her gasp in delight, which he did now as he teased one light brown nipple between forefinger and thumb.

Desire sparked in his eyes, and her grin turned sultry.  Raising up on her knees, she slowly undid the laces on her breaches, teasing out the fabric, making him wait.  Then she leaned over him, bracing one hand on each side of the tub, kissing him soundly, and he hooked his thumbs under the waist of her breaches and small clothes at the same time, tugging them down for her to step out of. 

“Thought you were tired.”  She spoke against his lips, a laugh bubbling up in her.  He hummed low in his chest, as he ran his hands back up her thighs, around the curve of her buttocks, along her hips.  She shivered at his touch, and then dripped one foot into the tub, then the other, sinking into the water with him, her legs straddling his thighs. 

“I am, you’re still doing most of the work,” he countered, and she sat back, putting a bland expression on her face.  Looking him square in the eye, she leaned over the side of the tub and picked up the soap and started to scrub down his chest like nothing had happened.  With a growl he leaned forward, sending the water sloshing about the tub and took the soap from her. His other hand tangled in the curly mass of her hair, carefully pulling her head back, exposing her neck for his attention.  He trailed kisses along her jaw and down the line of her neck, and she rested her arms over his shoulders, fingers threaded through his hair, holding him to her.

The water lapping at their bodies, he worked his way back up to her lips, capturing them once again with his own.  She shifted forward, feeling the evidence of his desire against her, and she felt a throb of want between her legs.  Slowly, he sat back against the wall of the tub again, bringing her with him, her small breasts brushing against his chest, sending tingles down her body.  Her hands gripped his shoulders while he stroked down her back, gripping her hips and pulling her firmly to him. She nipped at his bottom lip, drawing a brief chuckle out of him.  In return, he arched up to brush his lips against her ear, kissing along the graceful line to the delicate point.

“Think… think we should…” she panted, losing herself in the sensation, but managing to hold on enough to vaguely suggest moving elsewhere.

“Probably… yes,” he agreed, just as breathless as she was.  Reluctantly, she slid out of the tub, pulling her shirt back on, the fabric sticking to her wet skin.  Alistair stood as well, and she quickly handed him the towel she had laid by on the couch. He wrapped it around his waist and made a little motion for her to go ahead.  With a grin, she picked up her breaches and fled to their bedroom on light feet, Alistair not far behind her. 

As quietly as she could, she closed the door behind them, the latch clicking into place.  Alistair let the towel fall away from his waist, and she let her eyes linger on the curve of his rear.  He ran the towel over his hair, making it stick up at the back. She grinned to see it, and her fingers itched to smooth it back, but instead she opened the shutters over the windows, letting in the moonlight and the sound of the ocean.  For a moment, she looked out at the night sky, the stars clear and bright, and a halo of frost around the moon.

“Maker’s breath, but I’m a lucky man,” he said, looking at her with open wonder as he sat on the bed, the coverlet already turned back.  Taking off her shirt again, she let it fall to the floor as she approached him to take his face in her hands, drinking in the sight of him in the moonlight.

“And I’m a lucky woman,” she told him, kissing him for all she was worth, and she sank onto the bed, one knee to either side of his hips.  With one strong arm, he held her to him and moved them backwards until he sat propped up against the headboard. His hands roamed her body, touching her everywhere, stroking, teasing, and he took one breast in his mouth, tongue circling her nipple, making her arch back, offering more of herself for him to touch, to taste.  He did, kissing the hollow of her throat, licking at her still damp skin, and she braced her hands on his shoulders to keep herself upright.

The throbbing between her legs intensified, and she rose up, one hand sneaking between them to guide him inside of her.  Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, drawing in a shuddering breath as he entered her, as he filled her. Curling forward, her head dipped until their foreheads touched, breath mixing between them as she worked over him, onto him.  His hips rose up to meet her, one hand holding her hip while the other cupped the back of her head, fingers digging to the long mane of her curls, angling up to kiss her, tongue darting past her lips as they came together. He moaned into her mouth, and her breathing came in short little pants as she rocked back and forth slowly, setting a rhythm.  They moved together, and Caitwyn’s world narrowed to his hands, his mouth, his shoulders, him, all of him, around her and inside of her. At the base of her spine, between her legs, she felt her climax build, and she slowed down, putting it off.

“Don’t,” he whispered against the hollow of her throat, “don’t stop.  Want to see you.” Her breath caught, and she met his eyes, a fire where once there had been embers, and she leaned back.  He held her up with one hand at her back, teasing at her sensitive breasts with the other, driving her to a faster pace. Unable to hold back, she worked her way to the edge and the inexorable fall, letting go as pleasure shot through her, up between her legs, and left her body in a breathy sigh over his name.  Her head lolled forward as she shuddered, every little movement sending aftershocks through her.

“Well, then, I hope you liked what you saw,” she said, regaining her voice as she collapsed onto his chest.  He wrapped his arms around her, burying his nose in her hair, and he hummed quietly.

“Very much,” he told her huskily, fingers drawing her hair away from her face, careful not to touch her ears, and placing a kiss to her forehead.  “Though, don’t suppose you’d mind getting on your belly?”

“Hm, no, I wouldn’t,” she said, kissing him as she slid off of him and stretched out on the bed, belly down, and he moved behind her.  With sure hands, he angled her hips up, and she spread her legs for him. With a groan, he entered her again, still slick with want for him.  Then he draped himself over her, his warm body against her back, one hand taking hers, twining their fingers together as he began to thrust into her.  Like this, she could feel him differently, more fully, and it wound her up again, but she focused on him, keeping the angle right for him as he neared his own edge.

“Cait… oh Cait,” he breathed, lips brushing against her cheek, her ear, sending a shiver of pleasure through her all over again, and she gripped his fingers tightly with her own.  Their bed creaked as he thrust, speeding up, and another tingle wound through her as she anticipated his climax. Then, with a final, definite thrust, he spent himself inside of her with a low groan.  For a moment, he was still, his bulk lying atop her, warm and comforting. Slowly, he came back to himself, trailing tender kisses from the corner of her mouth, down her jaw, her neck, to her shoulder.

“You alright?” he asked, like he always asked.  An old habit from a different time though it was no longer needed now.  Still, he asked all the same. Gently, he rolled them to the side, spooning around her, though they had not parted yet.

“More than alright, I think,” she teased, and he chuckled.  She could feel the rumble of that through her back, and carefully, he withdrew from her.  Rolling over, he took a small cloth from the drawer in the small table that stood next to their bed, cleaning them both.  His touch was as gentle as ever, and when he was done, she curled into the hollow of his arms, tracing the planes of his face with her fingers, skirting the line of his lips as they stretched into a pleased smile.

“I love you,” she told him, as true now as it had ever been.  Perhaps more so, love built year after year, brick by brick, plank by plank, like the house they now called their home. 

“I love you,” he said softly.  His thumb stroked her cheek, and she snuggled closer to his warmth, pulling the blankets up over them.  “You don’t want to close the shutters, if you’re cold?”

“I like the sound of the ocean.”  She nuzzled his neck, muffling the sound of her voice but he understood her all the same.

“You like listening to the ocean, you like looking at it, and yet, you hate swimming in it.”  His tone was mock-complaining, and she shrugged not deigning to reply. He sighed as if put upon, as if no one could understand the burden he bore.  “You’re strange, that’s what you are.”

“Says the strangest human I’ve ever met,” she retorted, arching an eyebrow at him.  “Now, we can keep talking, and I might think you aren’t so tired. Tub could use emptying, you know.”

“No, no, quite sleepy.  Very tired. You wore my out, my love.  Knackered, I am,” he prattled, flopping onto his back, putting on a show of sheer exhaustion. 

“Yes, I can see that,  _ vhenan _ ,” she said quietly, laying her head on his chest, fingers brushing the fluff there.  His arm wrapped around her waist, and she closed her eyes. “You certainly did a man’s worth of work today.”

His startled bark of laughter was loud in the night, followed by a quieter, but very proud, “Good one!” 

 

It wasn’t often that she got one on him, but every now and again she managed it, and she smiled.  He pressed a final kiss into her hair, and he held her close as they drifted to sleep in their bed.  Their bed, in their home, a little house on a hill by the sea.


End file.
